


Insecure Thoughts

by JohnlockWatsonHolmes221BForeverInLondon



Series: Life and Times [1]
Category: Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: Crying, First Kiss, Insecure John, Insecure Sherlock, Kind of angsty, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Scars, happy ending I promise, men kissing, mentions of self harm, metions of torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-07
Updated: 2015-06-07
Packaged: 2018-04-03 07:01:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4091506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JohnlockWatsonHolmes221BForeverInLondon/pseuds/JohnlockWatsonHolmes221BForeverInLondon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a happy ending, I promise. Half of it is an outline of what happened from TRF on and then in came the boys and their feelings and how they got together and then their marriage proposal. Enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Insecure Thoughts

**Author's Note:**

> So that story I was going to do about kids and kidnapping and trampolines? Well I can't get past the first sentence so I'm not doing that one. I do mystrade and johnlock, mostly johnlock. Times for updating things will be iffy because of finals, work, and reading way too much fan fiction then is recommended. Thanks and enjoy! If you want a sequel like the wedding, the kid(s), details of some spots, their first time, or anything just comment! Thanks.

How this had been going on so long, Sherlock didn't know. John had decided to fall in love with him. Sherlock knew that he wasn't much to look at. He got people angry and he was mostly ignored or made fun of. 'Freak' was a term that had always been used for him. He had nothing to offer John, but he had fallen in love with his blogger. All the adventures they had and the many, many times Sherlock had spouted off at the mouth and his black moods, still John stayed. The 'fall' had been terrible but it saved John. It was painful to see him marrying another, a woman. The detective knew he had no chance. He hadn't told John and it was a battle at all times, but marrying Mary had made John happy. 

Magnussen had sent everyone for a loop and it had settled down finally. The baby was coming soon and you could see the excitement coming off of John in waves. The family he had always dreamed of was happening. That meant that Sherlock had no part of his bloggers life anymore. Letting go of him was hard. John had gotten over what Mary used to be and was regretful over how he had acted. 

When Mycroft had sent Sherlock on that plane, Sherlock was going to tell John. Thinking about it rationally for about two seconds got Sherlock to the conclusion that it would only disgust John and he couldn't bare that. That one thing would push John away, after everything it would be that. It hurt. It was painful to say something different. 

While that stupid plane flew away, he just had to hold his hand near his mouth because that was as close as he would ever get to touching John that way, left over memories and his smell would have to do it. It's not like he would get to see or talk to John ever again. Never get to help on cases or see Johns little girl grow up just like her father. No appearance from Sherlock to drag him away from his family. A regular life. Damn Mycroft's words, caring was most definitely an advantage, because without it, he would have torn John apart. Now caring for John had helped him live and make it to the normal life and family he wanted. These thoughts brought out tears, but no one was there to see them.

The phone call from Mycroft about Moriarty was devastating because it meant John would be in trouble. It was barely two minutes after the plane ha stakes off, but Sherlock was needed. And he needed to protect John, and by default, his family.

When Moriarty was dead at long last and for real this time, Sherlock had expected to be taken back to the plane and sent out to Siberia for his death, but Mycroft decided that Sherlock had redeemed himself enough from saving London from Moriarty. It was terrible. It would be even harder for Sherlock to leave John alone me not to see him. Not to spill his secret. 

Mary died in child birth, the child, a girl survived for three minutes outside the womb before it too died. Internal bleeding for Mary's part and the child's heart had a hole in it that wasn't detected before. John's already broken. Heart was shattered once more when he found out neither had made it. Sherlock ha doing out later when John went to find him and the trail led to an old drug house. The detective had holed up in there when it became too much to handle and he had to forget the world in order to stay friends with John because John had insisted. He had been high and John had been like a dream. Sherlock had dreamt up this often enough that the appearance of John was not registered as real. So he had babbled. Telling John about everything except for his feelings. Even high, Sherlock knew that even in dreams he couldn't admit anything. 

Hearing Sherlock babble on and on about things that he didn't know had happened, made him realize just how much he had forgotten Sherlock and that he was so wrapped up in Mary and convincing himself that his detective was put on the back burner. Sherlock had never really had friends who had cared for him. Sure he had Lestrade who gave him cases and Mrs. Hudson who cared about him like a devoted mother. But neither of them was really friends with Sherlock. Now John stood there listening to Sherlock describe his life without John and how he had done things differently. Feelings and emotions were omitted from every statement, so it almost sounded clinical but John found a sadness in each word. 

Not being able to bare it, John took Sherlock away from that disgusting drug house and stayed with him during the whole withdrawal. John absolutely refused to leave Sherlocks side, so when Sherlock needed a shower, John would help him and then leave Sherlock on toilet in a towel and shower and would eat only when Sherlock would. He wouldn't get much sleep because Sherlock was having a hard time, so when Sherlock slept, John would sleep but he would wake up at the slightest noise. No complaints were issued and John just kept worrying and caring for Sherlock Holmes.

When the withdrawal was over and Sherlock was finally fine, John insisted that he move back in to Baker Street to make sure that no relapses followed. Sherlock agreed quite quickly and soon John was moved back in. That was when the storm began to brew.

A couple months after John moved back in, his walls began to break. Sure, the two had gone on cases and blogged about them once again, John would pester Sherlock about eating and sleeping, Sherlock would pout and sulk, and Mycroft would show up and follow them with cameras. But John had a softer than usual spot for Sherlock, always had. He cared for Sherlock and he had stopped correcting everyone when they thought they were dating, instead he would think to himself and admit that he wished that they were. Sherlock was married to his work, gorgeous thing like him could pick up anyone he wanted. John had pushed down his feelings and was convinced that he was a broken man with ugly scars, physically and mentally, who had objected to being gay way too many times. He would catch himself cuddling up to Sherlock on the couch and sit closer to him once in a while at restaurants. But he was to conscious of everything he did that it didn't happen too often.

Sherlock saw that John was getting closer to him and that he cared more than usual whether it was about food, sleep, cigarettes, or hurting himself on crime scenes. He preened when ever John would lean on him on the couch and say more praises than usual. When he got hurt he made sure that it was never near where scars adorned his skin that weren't from other people. When ever hope had any hold on Sherlock, doubt would start in and the hope would be lost. Doubts like what would a brave man like John want with a freak like Sherlock. He wasn't good looking all and he would run people's lives, he had ruined Johns life and had finally gotten him back. Being this close to John at all as a friend was amazing. Doubt was a major factor in both of their minds even if they didn't know it. The storm hit.

A case had finished and both were exhausted and starving. So after a meal from the Chinese on Baker Street, both curled up on the couch and watched telly until they fell into dreams of each other. When the morning sun woke them, they were curled around each other, legs tangled and arms wrapped, heads on shoulders and breathing in each other. John woke first and was thinking he was still dreaming when Sherlock groaned and went to stretch and re-wrap himself around the blogger. John began over thinking everything and was beginning to hyperventilate when Sherlock woke up fully to find the doctor shaking. 

Sherlock, being sleep-hazed even when fully awake, leaned down and kissed Johns forehead. The shaking stopped, but so did Johns breath and heart. Sherlock seemed to figure out what had happened and his eyes widened and he scrambled off the couch very ungracefully. The detective stuttered and stammered without letting out one coherent word. Figuring that John hadn't moved or said anything meant rejection, he scrambled for his bedroom and shut the door.

Johns brain came online when he heard the door shut down the hall. It was just a kiss on the forehead but he knew that Sherlock didn't do that at all. John was lucky enough that Sherlock let him live there. Hope blossomed for a moment in the soldiers heart. It was crushed moments later when the fact that a certain detective wasn't there and looked terrified when he had scrambled away. Oh god, what if he thinks I don't want him? What if he thinks it was a mistake? What if he was dreaming of someone else? What if he hates me, disgusted even? Bound and determined to figure out the mess he made of all this, he got up and made his way to the bedroom. 

Listening through the door, there was silence. John knocked lightly and still heard nothing. Checking to see if the door was locked, it wasn't, John walked in. The room was clean to obsessive and bare of much decoration except for a periodic table poster on the wall. At first glance there was no person in this room, then very quiet sniffles could be heard from the crumpled lump of blankets on the bed. The sniffles started again but this time the blankets shook with them. Walking towards the bed was harder then you would think. Hearing the detective sniffle as if he was crying was unbelievable, actually finding it out was worse. 

Sitting on the edge of the bed, John put his hand where Sherlocks side would be and felt the body tense beneath the covers. The sniffling stopped and so did all movement. 

"Sherlock." Johns hushed voice was gentle to Sherlocks ear, but you never know, they could be pretending. He couldn't believe that he had messed it up. He also wouldn't believe that John would intentionally hurt him but now Sherlock wasn't sure. The fact that John hadn't run away meant that he wanted something or to rub it in that he was different. He would finally leave. Sherlock wouldn't be able to take it. This time his death would be a fake, he wouldn't be careful about the drugs. Nothing would matter anymore. 

"Sherlock, look at me." There was John again, insisting on something that would kill Sherlock. "Please." The doctor was gently tugging on the sheets and pleading. Finally fed up, John tugged them more roughly and got a quick glimpse of Sherlocks face. He gasped and ripped the covers while Sherlocks face crumpled again and hid himself. John had seen the beautiful face covered in tears and sadness in his eyes. The tears were still falling and the lump that was Sherlock Holmes curled even more around itself. It was painful to see the mask of The great consulting detective fall before your eyes and the heart he claimed not to have was broken because of you. 

"Sherlock..." This time his voice was full of emotion, he sounded close to tears and his voice wavered. "Look at me, please." This whispered request was followed by a hand that sought out the detectives wet face and unburied it. Tears kept falling and his eyes were scrunched shut. So John rubbed his thumb over Sherlocks chin and placed another hand on the back of his head. Shuffling up onto the bed so that he was laid next to the wonderful man crying, John pulled Sherlocks head onto his chest and cradled it, protecting his mind from the rest of the world while carding gentle fingers through wild hair. 

Feeling himself being brought towards John, he tried to pull away. It was a weak attempt and John just held on tighter and refused to let go. So he cried more. He couldn't take it that John was being so nice. A gentle rejection and then he would be moving out as soon as he could. 

"Shhhh......shhhhh....." The sniffling quieted and the tears were starting to let up. Sherlock was becoming less and less tense, stuck in his own thoughts.

John was holding him, that meant he somehow cared whether or not it was a gentle rejection. That meant there was a chance that John still cared, way deep down. Maybe he wanted Sherlock to do what ever he wanted, to beg and plead. Sherlock knew he would do anything for John. Anything to make him stay. But if he truly admitted it to himself, he would leave if John wanted it. He had already ruined everything. But he might as well try.

Sherlock quickly turned around and hugged John tightly, pulling himself to John only hoping beyond hope that he didn't push away. "John. John, please don't go, please. It was a mistake, I promise. It won't happen again. I'll do what ever you want. What ever you need. Anything at all." As these last words rushed out of his mouth, Sherlock raised his head and looked John in the eye, pleading with him. "Anything, please." Tears once again began to leak from from eyes. 

Each word from the detectives mouth was a knife to Johns heart. Why would he go? Did Sherlock really not mean it? Something as small as a kiss on the forehead was a full on love confession. He was lucky enough to have Sherlock touch him at all with how much he despised other people's touch. Having Sherlock confirm that he wouldn't do it ever again nearly killed John. Then he started pleading and John knew something was wrong. What would cause Sherlock to plead? Wait, his first sentence, don't go. Oh god, he thinks I'm going to go. He thinks I'm going to leave him. He's pleading so that I won't go. John listened to Sherlocks pleading. Selling himself like a thing so that John wouldn't go. Then those amazing, ever-changing eyes met Johns and he knew right then that Sherlock really would do anything. Those eyes then began to glaze again with unshed tears. When those last two words left those lips, Johns heart broke. The tears ran down the detectives face.

"Sherlock." The younger man ducked his head into Johns shoulder, repeating 'anything' over and over. 

"Sherlock, let go." Immediately Sherlocks arms released their hold and backed off to very edge of the bed without falling off. John felt horrible. "I didn't say move away." He flinched, every time he said something it just made it worse. Sherlock hesitated and then moved back to where he was. "Closer." John tried his hardest to sound gentle and caring but it still came out like a command. Sherlocks breathing hitched, not in a good way, but he still came closer, now nearly laying on top of John. 

Looking up again, Sherlock thought of something. What if he wants sex, without strings. He can't want me in the way I need him. I can have this side of him even if it means nothing to him. So with these thoughts in mind, Sherlock looked at John in the eye once and carefully placed a kiss on his arm. John looked startled. Sherlock took that as a go and kissed a trail up Johns shoulder. 

The kisses that Sherlock was giving him were clinical and the shaking was back. This was wrong. Sherlock didn't want this. He thought that John wanted this, this way. "Stop." Sherlocks eyes that had been watching him flashed with hurt and the shaking got worse yet again. "Oh Sherlock. Relax." Johns hands came up and rubbed up and down the detectives arms and sides. "Please Sherlock. Relax. I'm not going anywhere. I promise. No matter what." Those heterochromia eyes met his and hope flashed through them. Carefully, John leaned forward and kissed this wonderful man who would do anything for him on the mouth. It was chaste but slow. John pulled away to see Sherlocks expression change from sad and scared with a flash of hope to one of wonderment and doubt. His long fingers came up to touch his lips softly and stare at John. Sherlocks eyes were huge, as if it was such an impossible thing that some one would kiss him. Realization didn't dawn on him, it hit him square in the chest. His own eyes widened when he looked at Sherlock. 

"Was that.... I mean, your..... Your first......you know....." Slowly, so very, very slowly, Sherlock nodded his head. "Oh god. I took your first kiss. Did you even want it? You didn't did you? Oh god oh god oh god! Of course you didn't want it. Why would you want a kiss from me? Your first! I ruined it, I'm sorry. You probably were planning on someone else to be your first kiss and I just took that from you. You must be so angry at me! I mean it was your first, it was supposed to be special, someone you care for. Not me, never me. Oh god, forgive me. I didn't mean-" his babbling stopped there because it was quite hard to talk when someone was kissing you. Oh god, kissing. No, now Sherlock must feel bad or something so he's making it up to him because he knows John feels guilty and he needs to stop because John keeps ruining things for him and he can't do that. 

Pushing away must have been harder than walking towards a crying Sherlock. "Sherlock-"

"No. You had your time to talk so now it's my turn." John nodded. "Good. Did you mean that kiss? Actually mean it?" John nodded again. "Then kiss me." 

Dumbfounded, John kissed Sherlock without thinking. It was chaste to begin with and then a moan escaped from one of them and tongues tangled and teeth clacked. Hands roamed and bodies squirmed sensually against the other. Finally they realized that in order to continue kissing, air needed to be brought to the lungs. 

"Why?" The question was startling and Sherlock just froze for a second. Looking at John, he furrowed his brow to tell John to elaborate. "Why did you kiss me? Before, on the couch?" Sherlock just looked at John, once again confused.

"Because I've wanted to for a long time and I was half asleep, unable to rein in my actions in time." John was staring with such an intensity it was almost unbelievable. 

"Oh." John backed into his head. His mind shutting down all outside protocol to think about that. 

"John? John! Did I say something wrong? John, please! What did I do wrong?" Once again, arms enveloped John and hugged him tightly. Why would John shut down over this? Maybe he was having a sexual crisis. "John, come back." 

Hearing Sherlocks words, John returned to reality and found himself wrapped in Sherlock again. "Do you really want me?" This question startled Sherlock so much that he let go of John to back off an inch and give him an incredulous look. "Of course I want you! What do you think I'm doing kissing you?" John bit his lip, dragging it back into his mouth. Finally he looked into Sherlocks heterochromic eyes determinedly. "I'm broken. I sleep lightly and can wake up at any moment. I have nightmares that can cause you to be hurt. I'm not brilliant like you or even good looking. I have scars, ugly ones, lots of them. I am normal and boring to your standards." Here, Sherlock tried to interrupt but John covered his mouth with two fingers. "I don't know why you would want me." 

Sherlock was furious. How would John get such conclusions? He blamed his past girlfriends for not providing for John and for not appreciating who John was. For not liking his scars or odd quirks that were John. John was caring, loyal, gentle and was everything anyone could want. And most of all, John was not broken. "You're not broken. I already have a horrible sleep schedule by your standards so I don't care. I get nightmares too and I don't care about getting hurt from them. Of course your brilliant, not my level brilliant but your not an idiot and you can keep up. Scars are scars. That's all. They just tell of a story that you lived through. You could never be normal or boring. I want you because you are you. I could never change anything about you even if I tried because your stubborn and I like that. Your important to me." This time around, it was Johns turn to tear up at Sherlocks words. 

Wiping away Johns tears, Sherlock rested his head on a muscled shoulder and pulled one of Johns hands to his hair for it to card through. John chuckled at his flat mates antics and gladly did as he was told. They fell asleep is way.

In the morning, Sherlock woke up from a nightmare from his time away from John. Deciding he couldn't go back to sleep, he stood up carefully and headed to the bathroom. Coming back, he made sure that John was still asleep and changed out of his clothes, opting for his robe, a t-shirt and pajama pants. As he first got the pants on, he heard a gasp from the bed. Quickly, Sherlock turned and covered what he could with his arms. 

"Sher...." John looked at the scars. One was a bullet hole over Sherlocks heart and John was sure that was the one from Mary. Other scars were more messy and obviously stitched on the go if at all by novice hands. "Sherlock. What happened to you?" John dragged Sherlock onto the bed and laid him down on the bed. Touching each scar reverently. 

Sherlock just took in how beautiful John was and the picture he portrayed. Sleep mussed hair and a morning glow to him that wasn't found any other time. Wrapped in Sherlocks sheets on Sherlocks bed. John was so worried about each and every scar that the detective had to tell him. So he started, he talked about each and every scar as John passed over it. John kept going and going until each and every scar on Sherlocks torso, front and back, had a story. That's when John saw the ones on his wrists. Sherlock saw the moment John recognized what they were from. This time Sherlock didn't start talking about them immediately, John had to ask. So Sherlock told. He told John what he was feeling for each and every one and what had occurred for these emotions to have arisen. At the end of these stories, John kissed each one. So gently that they almost didn't touch Sherlocks skin at all, as if they still hurt and were still open and bleeding.

After more snogging and sensual squirming, John went to make breakfast. Sherlock stayed back for a few minutes and decided that there was no need of a shirt now that there was nothing to hide. Maki sure that he made no sound, the detective snuck up behind the cooking John and wrapped his arms around his waist and held on, breathing in Johns smell. This scene stayed the same all through the making of breakfast, and if Sherlock would had his way, all through eating it too.

The two shared a quiet afternoon at Baker Street. Reading or crappy telly filled their time between cuddling and kissing. 

It stayed this way for a few days, getting to know each other's mouths better and just keeping each other company whether it be on a chair, a bed, or a couch. The small cases were easy, they didn't change anything while at a crime scene so they didn't keep it a secret but if someone found out then they found out. It was the next week when Mrs Hudson found them asleep on the couch together and another week after that when Lestrade saw them wonder off holding hands. 

Now it had been months and Sherlock was wondering how it had lasted this long. He knew that their was no one else he could ever fall in love with. He just had to hope that John felt the same way. 

Sherlock fingered the box in his jacket pocket for the tenth time at the crime scene when he got the answer from the body. "It was the daughters fiancé. They hated the step mother and killed her for the money and from jealously because she was spending too much time with his betrothed." A brilliant was issued from John and Lestrade just rolled his eyes. They went to the Yard and signed all the papers. Sherlock as eager to get home and Lestrade noticed so he let them go as soon as possible, only noticing the ring box sitting on the chair after the two left. Figuring it was Johns, he texted him and waited for an answer. 

John found a text from Greg on his phone when they returned to Baker Street and told Sherlock he had forgotten something. When he got to the Yard, Greg gave him a ring box and winked at him. John just stood staring at the box in his hands. It was covered in light blue velvet and was very beautiful. John thanked Greg and headed home once again. As soon as John stepped into the flat Sherlock noticed that something was off. A blue velvet box was held in one hand as blue eyes looked at him for answers. Sherlock stood from his chair and took the box gently from his blogger and kneeled down. 

"John. You have stayed with me through everything and I am really honoured by that. You have put up with me for years and you have accepted me and praise my skills. I love you John Hamish Watson and I hope you love me. I think you know what the box is and I was waiting for the perfect moment. Of course you don't have to say yes and I wouldn't blame you." Sherlock started to rush his words. "I have nothing to offer you and I know that you want a family that I cannot give you. I have scars and moods and I will ignore you for days and I will get on every one of your nerves and yet you still stay. I know I'm not good looking at all and you are the best man that I have ever known. You have always been my brave soldier doctor. It has been an honour to have been able to call you mine for these past few months. I know that you are the only person I will ever love like this and I can only hope and dream that you feel the same. So what I'm trying to say is, John Hamish Watson, will you do me the honour of marrying me, William Sherlock Scott Holmes?" 

John just stood looking at Sherlock he couldn't believe what had just come out of that mouth, how ever prepared he was for it. Of course Sherlock would take the silence wrong.

Quickly Sherlocks face fell and the lid was closed on the ring. "Of course you would say no. I don't blame you at all. Just forget that this happened and-" John slipped down to floor so that he was level with Sherlock and could cup Sherlocks face delicately, cutting off his words quite efficiently. 

"You should know that I am old Sherlock. No matter what you say, I am old. This is my last. I can't go out and pick up any body for a one night stand. This is my last relationship. I won't have another after this. You have to know this."

Sherlock nodded. "I know. You aren't that old though, John. Does this mean you'll consider marrying me?" Hope was growing once again in the detectives heart as he asked John this question.

"Yes. Yes,yes,yes,yes! Of course I'll marry you, you beautiful, wonderful, gorgeous, brilliant man!" At that, John kissed Sherlock and clung onto him tightly. "Were you worrying about those things all along? Through our entire relationship?" Sherlock nodded. "Do you want a family?" This question was asked so quietly that Sherlock barely heard it. "If you want one then I want one. I want what ever you want. I won't say no to anything you want." Johns smile was huge. "Will it be adopted or will we ask a woman to bear our child for 9 months?" Sherlock immediately knew that the child couldn't carry his genes because he didn't want their child to go through anything that he had gone through. It couldn't be anything like Sherlock. "Which ever you want, John." John knew exactly what he wanted to do. "We'll ask my sister, Harry. She can carry the child and we can use your genes since me and Harry are twins." 

"We can't use my genes." John looked at Sherlock quizzically. "I can't let a child share my genes because I don't want them to be like me, the freak that I am. I can't do that to a child, let alone one with you. You child should be perfect in every way. That's why my genes can't be put in." 

"Yes, we will use your genes. Because you are perfect to me and I want a kid running around that looks like you and acts like you. It's settled. I'll call Harry tomorrow and we'll have a wedding soon. I love you, fiancé."

"I love you too, fiancé."


End file.
